


Summoning

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Lana finds a weary but hopeful Link.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Their camp is large and sprawling, with different factions for different things—Princess Ruto, for example, has her “tent” right on the edge of the river, while Agitha is too busy running about in search of insects to set up a tent at all. Lana will probably invite her in when she’s tuckered herself out, mostly because Lana wants to make sure all these wonderful people are well rested for tomorrow’s battle, and a little bit because Lana will take any company she can—no matter how she tries, a part of her always feels _lonely_.

Until she absolutely _must_ sleep, she walks amongst the others, taking courage in their hope. Sometimes Cia’s forces seem insurmountable, but somehow, Princess Zelda’s forces always seem to manage. It helps, of course, that they have two carriers of the triforce, and especially the legendary hero. 

As she thinks it, her boots grind to a halt—she realizes what’s missing. Link’s tent isn’t amongst the core group, nestled safely in the valley, nor, when she goes to look, amongst Hyrule’s soldiers in the field. She tries not to get worked up about it—if anyone can handle themselves, it’s Link—but she does search the area until the sun’s completely disappeared, and she finds a hidden nook by starlight, shielded from the rest of camp around a particularly high hill. Link’s tent is a small, humble thing, and he’s out sitting by a little fire, his hat and scarf and heavy armour already thrown back inside the tent. His fairy companion is nowhere to be seen—perhaps off gathering intelligence or just craving conversation. He glances up as Lana circles around to him. The firelight dances beautifully off his pale skin and golden hair.

 _He’s_ beautiful. She thought that the first time she saw him, but there were more important things to do than ogle handsome soldiers, and there hadn’t been much time to get to know him properly. Now, even though they’ve barely exchanged two words, she feels like she knows him as well as anyone. They’ve fought along side each other, and she can _sense_ the symbol of courage in him. She gives him a little smile that she hopes isn’t too conspicuous and invites herself over. She always feels drawn to him, one way or another. 

And when she comes to sit next to him beside the fire, she notices that his arm has tensed across his stomach, the other balanced on his knees. There’s something wrong about his posture, bent so far over as it is, but his soft smile is as kind as ever. She opens her mouth to ask, “Why are you—” but she cuts off when he omits a sudden gasp and bends in two, both arms darting to clutch his middle tightly. 

She knows he’s in pain. His face scrunches up with it, his teeth biting back another cry, and when she lays a hand on his shoulder, he flinches. She can feel the tension. She didn’t bring her tome or staff, but healing spells are simple enough, when there isn’t a battle raging on around them and they can afford to sit and do it right. She tries to gently tug his hand away from his middle, assuring him, “I can help, let me—” But he shakes his head and turns away.

Link never seemed the sort to her to do foolish things out of _pride_. His face, when it finally eases out of torment, looks vaguely guilty, for reasons she can’t fathom—until she thinks of what it must be like to be _the legendary hero_ , the one everyone’s counting on. Impa’s said he was only a soldier, not so long ago. She’s slow and careful when she retries, “Link... please.”

He opens his mouth, but as usual, nothing comes out. He’s the quietest creature she’s ever met. So she tries to anticipate his protests and tells him, “It’s okay. If you don’t want to waste potions, I can do it. It won’t take much of my magic. I’m fully charged right now, and I’ll be fully charged again in the morning. And... and we’ll need you at full strength in the morning too. I—” She cuts herself off before saying _she_ needs him, because she hasn’t revealed everything yet. He doesn’t know everything of what’s really going on, everything of _her_. And maybe if he knew... if he knew what she was missing, and what evil is a part of her, he wouldn’t smile at her quite the same way.

It seems to be enough, though, and he begrudgingly nods. She withdraws her hand, smiling gratefully at him, and he sits up straight to pull his green tunic over his head, then to turn and toss it back atop the rest of his gear inside the tent behind them. He’s left gloriously bare, and for too long, Lana finds herself staring at his strong chest. She only breaks out of the reverie when _he_ blushes, gaze turning away again. She can feel her own cheeks burning. She finally follows down the lean line of his abdomen to the angry purple bruise across his stomach, distorted around the chiseled etchings of his muscles. It’s a strange contrast, to feel so sad at seeing it, yet elated over the rest. She clears her throat purposely and lifts her hands to splay just in front of the bruise. She shuts her eyes, and the spell comes.

This magic is a slow, ancient kind, but it comes to her easier than the offensive ones. It rises from her heart and ripples down each limb, sparking from her palms to press into his wound. She can hear Link’s hitch of breath, but she knows it’s from surprise and the strangeness of being touched by magic, not from more pain. She lets it linger perhaps a bit longer than necessary, just to make absolutely sure. When she opens her eyes again, his stomach’s unmarred. He’s flawless again, right down to his navel and the sharp jut of his hipbones, the rest hidden beneath his trousers. What’s there is more than enough.

He’s irresistibly _gorgeous_ from head to foot. She feels a little drained from her spell, and looking at him keeps her dizzy. When she finally lowers her hands and meets his eyes, she finds him breathing a little harder than normal, eyes blown just a little wide. The magic’s worked and left him sizzling with it. He rakes one hand through his tussled blond hair and gives her a relieved smile. 

She wants to say how much she appreciates him. How he needs to tell her next time when he’s hurt, because she wants to make sure he’s always safe. But she doesn’t get past opening her lips, because he’s leaning forward.

His hand lifts to cup her cheek, and his mouth presses into hers, soft lips spreading hers apart. He slips his tongue inside, and Lana moans around it with a desperation she didn’t even know she had. He kisses like a dream.

She finds herself pressing forward, her hands landing on his broad shoulders, squeezing lightly at the warm flesh and hard muscle, and his other hand lands on her waist. His palm is so gentle against her face, but she can feel such _strength_ in him. He kisses her sweetly at first, affectionate and new, and then pulls back to search her eyes. 

She dives right in for another.


End file.
